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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24243184">Mr. Bright-Eyed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ollie_Mor/pseuds/Ollie_Mor'>Ollie_Mor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:01:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,407</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24243184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ollie_Mor/pseuds/Ollie_Mor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Deceit | Janus Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders &amp; Morality | Patton Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was... <em>wrong. </em>Something was wrong with him.</p>
<p>That... that was right, wasn't it? The boy... or figment... didn't know yet. Everything around him seemed so fuzzy, but nothing was wrong with his eyes. It was ideas and feelings that were so unclear. There was no certainty, no substance at all. All he did know was that he loved the boy.</p>
<p>
  <em> Who? </em>
</p>
<p>Well, who else?</p>
<p>
  <em> Thomas. Only Thomas </em>
</p>
<p>There, another simple truth that he could work with. The boy that he loved was named Thomas, and it was his job to protect him. No matter how jealous he felt when the boy's smiles weren't directed towards him, it was his goal to keep him happy. Thomas was very young, as was he, and he had matching brown eyes and hair. Thomas was a kind boy if the woman the figment had filed away as Momma was to be trusted. That wasn't why he loved Thomas, though. He didn't think that he needed a reason to love him... </p>
<p>There was another figment that did, though. </p>
<p>
  <em> What was that figment's name...? </em>
</p>
<p>"<em>Heart,</em>" he muttered. The name tasted a bit sour in his mouth... but something told him that meant it was right. He refrained from talking most of the time, so he wasn't used to the taste. If Thomas couldn't hear him, what was the point?</p>
<p>"Huh?" </p>
<p>For that reason, it would often escape his mind that the other figment could hear him and just chose not to listen most times. He had a face just like Thomas', but the way he acted seemed like an exaggeration of the boy's personality. While Thomas wore a rainbow of colours, this figment stuck with tones of blue. That and wide eyes that reminded the former of a puppy dog. Thomas loved puppy dogs, so he thought that feeling could be extended to the blue-clad boy. <em>Where did feelings come from?</em> The woman the figment had filed away as Miss Teacher claimed that they came from the Heart. So, that is what the puppy-eyed boy would be.</p>
<p>Poking gently at the other's chest, he repeated himself: "Heart, you are Heart." </p>
<p>Heart's already wide eyes widened as he gasped. "<em>I love it!</em>" he said in an excited whisper. "You... you are... You are <em>Bright!</em>"</p>
<p>Bright flinched. "Why?"</p>
<p>Heart spread his arms with a giant grin spreading across his face. "Bright is a smarter word for smart! And that's what you are!"</p>
<p>Bright blushed and looked away, flustered; he had just wanted a name to file the other away as. He hadn't done anything exceptional. Heart didn't seem to care, though. The blue-clad figment smiled at Bright like the other had done something amazing. There was a name for that: when someone treats you special to make you like them better. Bright didn't know that term yet. "<em><strong>I don't like it</strong>,</em>" he mumbled, and the words tasted like sugar.</p>
<p>Heart's eyes grew sad, and Bright scrambled to take his words back.</p>
<p>"I lied! I like it a lot."</p>
<p>The other figment's smile returned, but his eyes were now confused. "Why would you lie? Lying is bad."</p>
<p>Bright didn't know... he didn't know that. </p>
<p>Silence must have been the wrong answer because now Heart looked upset. With his role as keeper of feelings ratified, those emotions would carry on to Thomas, and Bright <em>wouldn't have that. </em> </p>
<p>"I'm sorry, Heart. I won't <strong><em>ever</em></strong> do it again," Bright promised, and Heart smiled, and the words tasted so sweet.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bright wasn't surprised to find that there were others like him and Heart. Of course, the two of them didn't account for every part of Thomas. Bright wasn't quite sure of his purpose yet. Unfortunately, Heart was able to sense his uncertainty, a strength he gained as an empath. So, to ease the yellow-clad figment's worries, Heart had insisted that Bright join him on a walk. That was the day they found a boy who looked like Thomas if he were to wear glasses. Heart squealed at the sight of the stranger and ran as fast as he could to greet him, all the while dragging Bright behind him like a ragdoll.</p><p>"Hi!" The excitable figment called out, "Are you new here?"</p><p>The bespectacled figment, wearing a navy blue polo and a stoic face, looked at the empath with a look of dull confusion. "No, though I have never met you two."</p><p>Tugging Bright forward so that he was standing beside himself, Heart introduced the two of them. "Well, we've been here for a long time, too! I'm Heart, and this is Bright!"</p><p>Bright offered a small wave, not yet deeming this introduction important enough for words.</p><p>The new boy nodded, pulling out a notepad to write something down. "I'll keep that in mind."</p><p>Heart giggled and held out his hand for the other figment to shake. "What's your name?"</p><p>The figment regarded the hand with curiosity before choosing to ignore it completely, "I don't have one; I wasn't aware they were required."</p><p>The dismissiveness brought a dejected look to Heart's face, and the empath's grip on Bright's hand tightened unconsciously.</p><p>Bright glanced at the other figment and sighed before addressing the new arrival: "You're supposed to take his hand and shake it," he explained.</p><p>"Ah." The figment did just that, though his movements were stiff and robotic. "I hadn't known, please be patient with me while I become accustomed to these new stimuli."</p><p>Heart stared at the other for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. "You're Learning!" He exclaimed, pointing at the other boy.</p><p>The bespectacled figment nodded. "I suppose I am adjusting to interacting with others, yes."</p><p>Bright scoffed. "Heart, we are not naming him Learning, okay? That is a verb."</p><p>Heart pouted. "But that's what he is! I already named you Bright! What else could he be if he's just smart? Brain?"</p><p>Bright frowned. Maybe... though Brain was a rather crude name. So was Heart and Bright, in all honesty. The Heart really wasn't the source of any emotions, and Bright wasn't... Bright wasn't even a noun. Heart's comment got to him. If this new figment's trait was his intellect, where did that leave Bright? Who was he if his title meant nothing-?</p><p>"That doesn't feel right."</p><p>The two bickering figments turned to face the topic of discussion.</p><p>"Is that so?" Bright asked. "Why not?"</p><p>"I am not the Brain, per se, as we all live inside Thomas' head. I am more... a compilation of all the facts he knows along with his reasoning."</p><p>Thomas' reason and all the facts he knew... There was a word for that. Bright just didn't remember it, or perhaps he'd never learnt it. He did know that, whatever it was, it sounded like... "Log."</p><p>Heart gasped and lightly shoved the yellow-clad figment. "You're naming him after a tree! That's no better than a verb!"</p><p>"What? No! I meant he's a Log of information for Thomas to skim through." Bright turned to face the other. "Are you comfortable with being called Log?"</p><p>The boy nodded. "It is adequate."</p><p>"Addy... quit? From what?" Heart questioned.</p><p>"No. Adequate: a synonym for satisfactory-"</p><p>"What he means is that he accepts the name," Bright explained before Heart could ask if Addy quit from working in the saddest factory.</p><p>"Oh! That makes sense!" The empath cheered in his signature bubbly tone.</p><p>Log turned to Bright, expressionless. "Will you be translating all of my statements? I could instead take note of what won't be understood and reconfigure my speech-pattern for maximum comprehension."</p><p>Bright smiled, an expression he practiced in the mirror often after he and Heart started talking regularly. "You don't have to change. It gives me something to do if you are the smart one now."</p><p>Log nodded. "Very well."</p><p>Heart grinned, looking between the two of them. "Well, you two are buddy-buddy now!"</p><p>"We have simply come to an agreement. This is nothing out of the norm, is it?"</p><p>"Not at all, don't worry about it, Log," Bright assured him. If his job was now translating straight facts into flowery sentiment, he could live with that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With time, Bright's differences from the two other figments made him feel isolated in a way that he didn't understand. He couldn't comprehend it because, frankly, it didn't make sense. He was in no way alienated by the others. He and Log frequently discussed the new information that Thomas learned on a day-to-day basis and how their host could use that knowledge to his advantage. Neither of them felt compelled to call it a friendship, and both were content with the arrangement. In contrast, Heart was always boisterous and pulling him towards the latest new thing that caught his fancy: like the wide-stretching field of dandelions that Bright was sulking in now. The empath shared everything with him, and yet he felt like he'd never be on a similar level. </p><p>All because Heart and Log looked like Thomas, and he did not.</p><p>"Bright, if I may inquire about your appearance," a stiff voice requested, breaking him out of his contemplative stupor.</p><p>The figment spun around, turning away from the weeds he'd been scrutinizing.</p><p>Bright's left eye was yellow, and his freckles densely covered that side of his face. If it weren't for that, he'd look just like Thomas. He hated it.</p><p>He established eye contact with the bespectacled figment, and with an ingratiating simper, he nodded. "Ah, you may."</p><p>Log didn't smile, but his face bore a satisfied look that could well enough be the equivalent. "Thank you. I was curious. Why is it that your appearance is drastically different from the rest of us?" He held a notepad in his hand, prepared to jot down information like a news reporter.</p><p>Bright sighed, anticipating this exact question. "To tell the truth," Bitterness flooded his mouth with those words, "I don't know, Log. I figured it was because we're figments, we look how Thomas wishes to see us." This meant that Bright was <em>other</em>, <em>different</em>, <em>not good enough</em> to bear Thomas' visage.</p><p>"<em>Figments?</em>" Log repeated, pausing his note-taking.</p><p>"Yes?" He'd expected the other to gloss over his explanation, possibly take his words at face value and leave immediately after. </p><p>Log hummed, pushing his glasses up his nose bridge. "I don't believe the word figment encompasses what we are to Thomas."</p><p>That struck him. "Hm? Really?"</p><p>"Yes. A figment of the imagination would be something that Thomas actively created. However, Thomas is so far unaware of our presence. A fabrication would also have little to no bearing on Thomas. We, however, can affect him. Heart's emotions reach him, and I keep records of information for him to use." Log studied him for a second as if gauging whether he was listening still. Bright didn't blame him, Heart would be asleep by now. Satisfied, he continued: "The title I have been using to describe us has been<em> sides </em>or<em> assets, </em>as we account for different aspects of Thomas' character."</p><p>"Oh." Bright understood, but that would mean- "I'm the only figment, then." He slumped down in the grass, eyes bearing a look of defeat.</p><p>Log frowned before joining him on the ground. "Why do you say that?"</p><p>Bright shot him a dubious look. "I don't have a role like the two of you. I'm just...<em> Bright.</em>" The name sat weightily on his tongue, like an insult.</p><p>The other nodded before stopping abruptly, seeming to catch on that agreeing with that statement was not the most helpful thing he could've done. "Well, to my knowledge, your title was given to you by Heart while ours were thought of by you. You named us after our roles while Heart neglected to do the same."</p><p>His name<em> had </em>been a spur of the moment idea... just Heart returning the favour of being named. Bright had been too flustered to rationalize that at the time. "Then... what might I be?"</p><p>"What do you believe you have to offer for Thomas?" The logical fig-<em>side</em> now looked more like a therapist than a reporter.</p><p>Bright took a moment to think, and Log patiently waited. He always liked that about him. Heart feared silence. "I tell Thomas to listen. When teachers tell him what's wrong and right... when Momma tells him that Santa Claus is real... I tell him to listen, and he believes them."</p><p>Log nodded, taking notes. "While I don't personally agree with the sentiment about Santa Claus... There is a title that could cover all of that."</p><p>"What is it?" Bright's hands trembled in anticipation.</p><p>"You are Thomas' Belief."</p><p>Semi-sweet chocolate chips. That's what those words tasted like: the flavour of the small handfuls Thomas would sneak away as Momma was baking. Heart would scold Bright for allowing it, but he'd never refuse when the other side brought him a few to snack on.</p><p>It... distinctly<em> wasn't</em> a lie, the bitter aftertaste made that clear; however, the sweetness still clung to the words as he said it: "I am Thomas' Belief."</p><p>Log looked at him, expectantly. "Is the title... satisfactory?" Hope tinted his eyes, and for the first time, Bright realized that they weren't Thomas'. They were the same deep brown, but looking closely, he could also see a dark blue painting the bespectacled side's irises. More prominent things became apparent, like how his hair was much darker than Thomas' own and how his face was near expressionless most of the time.</p><p>Bright wasn't Thomas... but neither was Log.</p><p>The heterochromatic side smiled brightly. "<em>I'm Thomas' Belief!</em>" he cried with joy. Such a straightforward statement had never inspired a bittersweet taste before... but that was because beliefs weren't based on facts or lies. He loved it.</p><p>Log's look of anticipation morphed into one of concern. "You're repeating yourself, are you well?"</p><p>He laughed, shaking his head. "Yes, Log. I'm <em><strong>perfectly</strong></em> fine." The reassurance was admittedly sweet, as he was reeling. The overly logical side watched him with skepticism. "I'm simply amazed by you. You're a genius, Log."</p><p>Log's eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile so subtle that it could never be found on their host or Heart. Despite its subtleness, the change in expression is monumental, and Bright rightfully feels as if he's unearthed some unknown treasure.</p><p>Bright's smile smooths out into a calmer, shrewder simper. His own dissimilarities from Thomas still irked him, but he felt he could stand to get to know his acquaintance's idiosyncrasies.</p>
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